


Wilderness

by ToxicRadiation



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men Evolution
Genre: Airplane Crashes, Deutsch | German, Gen, Mutant Powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 17:08:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12512176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicRadiation/pseuds/ToxicRadiation
Summary: The Blackbird crashes yet again, stranding its pilot and his passenger.





	Wilderness

**Author's Note:**

> The OC is named Arabella, but she could easily be anyone. I just like that name.

Gray smoke rose steadily from the shredded Blackbird. Fall leaves fluttered down, around, and inside its chamber. Their colors painted the frigid scene in muted rainbows. The raw-cut stiff edges of the broken jet curled at every angle. It seemed as though the pilot had flown too low. Far too close to the treeline, but Arabella believed otherwise. In the back echoes of her shattered memory, she could vaguely see the very man himself. Recall that this wasn’t his first takeoff. He had in fact, flown the first Blackbird many years ago. That is, until it crash landed itself into a watery grave. This incident wasn’t terribly different, but it wasn’t altogether too similar either. Not when she tried to piece her leftover thoughts and memories of what had happened together. How she had the ghost- like nearly there feeling, of the man who had practically built the first Blackbird, and this current one. How he had managed to lose all control, as the jet ripped itself to pieces.

Now despite their best efforts, the two of them had each been flung in different directions, courtesy of the recent impact. She slowly sat up and surveyed the area. Arabella winced the second she tried to move. She looked down and saw a shiny metallic gift from the Blackbird lodged in the center of her thigh. She sighed and gripped her hand around its sharp twisted edges. When she pulled it out in one quick motion, an involuntary howl escaped her lips. The deep black shadows around her quickly spun and melded into one dark patch in her wound. She clenched her eyes closed, and ground her teeth together. It didn’t matter how accustomed to pain she might be, it was still beyond terrible. 

“Arabella?” came an echoed cry. “Arabella...where are you?” the voice asked without pause. It sounded strained and familiar. She swept her hand over her thigh and the excess shadows scattered back to their homes. The rest formed a neat square patch. They would do an acceptable job of pretending to be a bandage, at least for now. Arabella quickly glanced at the rest of her body, before deciding she was mostly fine. She stood up slowly. The fall leaves swirled around her, as if mocking her inability to hover like they could. One of them caught onto her curls as it floated by, and she turned her head with it out of reflex. In the next moment, her eye caught the spiraling smoke of what she assumed had to be the Blackbird in the distance.

“Are you...close? Arabella, please?” the voice called out again. It’s echoes were more tried and desperate than before. There was a sadness behind the tone of the words, one that urged her towards its call. She had taken several limping steps, before it occurred to her to answer back.

“I’m nearby. Call out to me again, so I can find you,” Arabella asked. 

The voice that somehow seemed like home to her, didn’t waste a second. “Come to me Meine Geliebte,” it answered. The smooth melodic notes rang through her ears and pulled her forward. The warmth of the German phrase she knew so well without any account as to how, made tears fill her eyes. In a few minutes time she had stumbled upon a clearing. One that was undoubtedly made by force, and by a person sized force at that.

When Arabella wrestled the brush aside, she glimpsed the form of a peculiar blue man. Her eyes widened and focused on his strange features; his prehensile tail, his glowing yellow eyes, the sharp points of his teeth, and his bizarre three fingered hands and feet. The moment he laid eyes on her, his face lit up. A bright smile washed over him, erasing the pained look he’d had only moments before. His tail whipped back and forth stirring up leaves and soil excitedly. He couldn’t help his relief that she was alright. Or mostly alright that is.

Before she could take another step, or utter one confused word, his eyes darted to her blood stained thigh. “You’re hurt?” he asked her. He sat up, so slowly he appeared to her like an old robot ratcheting itself forwards in pre measured increments in order to move. Once he’d painstakingly achieved a semi-upwards position, he twisted to face her more completely. “Is your injury bad?” he asked her, as her eyes followed a trail of dark velvet blood creeping down his chin. 

Still bewildered by this man’s appearance, and the way he made her feel, she narrowed her eyes at him. Arabella studied his form for a slow and awkwardly long length of time. She could feel this man on the edge of her mind. He matched her distant recollection of the Blackbird’s pilot. But her intact memories of him were heavily guarded with tall and elegant barbed wire fences. Fences she desperately wanted to hop. Now. Not later. If she waited until later, this man could be dead from his apparent injuries, and remembering who he was and why she felt things for him after the fact, would be useless. Useless and painful. So Arabella stood there, with this blue man whose grin was now replaced with a concerned frown, willing herself to remember. 

She closed her eyes and suddenly dropped to her knees. Arabella let out a yelp, as the ground shocked her injured leg. The man lying before her, jolted even more upright in response. He winced, as equally confused by all this as she was.

“Talk...to me again. I need your voice,” she muttered to him. The forest’s hidden shadows began to twitch at her words. 

“Was?” the man asked. 

“Your voice. I think it makes me remember. Please. Keep talking to me until I ask you to stop,” Arabella explained as quickly as she could. Matching the urgency of her words, the shadows around them pulled themselves free from their earthly holdings. They ran past the blue man to swirl around her. The wind they created forced the injured man to shield himself with his strange three fingered hands. His glowing eyes locked onto her form through the chaotic dark wisps whirling by, and with the deepest concern in his voice he replied, “Of course Meine Geliebte. I will speak for you until my voice fades, if that is what you require.”

Arabella couldn’t help herself. When he spoke in that slightly suave way of his, she smiled. Her smile felt comfortable on her face, and she knew without knowing how or why, that it was because of him. 

“What should I speak of, I wonder?” he asked the dancing black shapes before him. “Should I focus on our current mission? No, work is much too stressful. You never really want to talk about our work,” he continued on as he was asked.

And she sat there listening, among the decaying sticks and autumn leaves. Arabella sat there with her precious shadows plugging up her wounded leg, and creating a wind around her. She sat there as the man with the blue skin color bled red blood, and rambled on to her about everything from their lives that she was gasping to recall, to the weather evidently all around them. He didn’t pause or falter once in his chatter, and for a moment she relaxed her mind enough to be amazed at his adeptness at following her desperate directions. To her surprise, during that momentary lapse of focus of hers, Arabella’s head filled most suddenly with what she desired. Because it came back to her all at once, she cried out and nearly lost consciousness. Her shadows became even more hurried around her in that moment and then fizzled out almost immediately. 

The man that still somehow clung to life, stopped talking. He looked at her, with her forehead pressed to the leafy ground in agony, and waited. Arabella wanted to sit up again, but the rush of memories and coinciding emotions wouldn’t let her.

Her head was flooding with years of time well spent with him. She caught momentary glimpses of their first meeting, punches exchanged on training grounds, battles with fierce killers, enthralling surprise birthday parties, heart wrenching funerals, and warm evenings exhausted in the mansion together with her favorite french wine. Tears formed in her eyes, as she contemplated almost losing all of that forever.

He swallowed loudly and felt his heart knocking against his chest as he watched her with her face still down in the leaves. He wasn’t sure if he was worried for her, or if his desperately pumping heart was trying to warn him he was running out of whatever light allowed people to live. There wasn’t long for him to worry about either, because as soon as the thoughts crossed his mind, she looked up at him with her glassy eyes and asked, “Kurt?”

 


End file.
